


As We Grow

by PoisonedMind



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, POV Outsider, Valentine's Day, a celebration of dnp's v extra and eternal love uwu, but this really is just fluff, some past angst if you squint, yes it's vday video related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 13:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13682670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedMind/pseuds/PoisonedMind
Summary: There is a small café a little down a side street from their old apartment. The older lady working there has always had a soft spot for the two young boys frequenting her café, and she has watched them go through ups and downs.It’s Valentine’s Day and they haven’t been there since they moved.





	As We Grow

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @phandomficfests on tumblr for hosting this Valentine's Day Fic Fest!
> 
> A very special thank you goes to my friend M who dedicated way too much of her time to beta this fic and to try to make my rambles make some kind of sense. I love you. A lot. 
> 
> All remaining errors are definitely mine. 
> 
> That said, Happy Valentine's Day if you celebrate!

The cool air carrying winter in its arms hits her as the door opens behind them, leaving goosebumps to trail down her arms. She almost doesn’t recognize them at first, they look so different, but then the taller one laughs at something the other one whispered, loudly and freely, a couple of customers turning their heads with frowning brows, and she can’t hold back the smile tugging on the corners of her lips. 

  


They’ve been coming there for years. Sometimes together, hiding from view in a secluded booth in the back, talking as if the price of words could go up any minute, often times alone but always walking out of the door with two styrofoam cups of steaming coffee.

  


She hasn’t seen them in almost a year though, and the sight of them suddenly in her little café again feels strangely like dejá vu and then also nothing like that at all.

  


They’re different now. The taller one, _Dan_ , curly-haired and happily carefree, the shorter one, _Phil_ , confident and almost peaceful, as a halcyon day. 

  


But it’s not just that, she thinks, as she watches them squeeze into a booth in the back, legs linked like it’s a secret and eyes locking like it’s a game of chicken, winner-take-all. She knows the games they play, though, has watched them play it for years, they’re expert levels now or maybe they just learned how to cheat. Happiness emanates between them in their smiles, scintillating through the interstices of their own little world. 

  


It’s almost blinding, she thinks, smiles, and walks to their table. She has missed them.

  


She remembers the first time she saw them, young, so young compared to now. She remembers the two boys bursting into her café, hands held above their heads as makeshift umbrellas against the raging weather outside, water dripping from them, a cataract. 

  


They’ve grown up so much and it’s only been almost a year since she last saw them, walking out of her café, bodies close together but not quite touching. They’re different now. It hits her again, it’s that apparent, shining like a diamond in a spotlight. 

  


They both turn their heads to her as she stops at their table, notepad in hand. Two seconds, and then recognition glints in their smiles, and she’s suddenly overwhelmed because she really has missed these boys, her boys, and it’s been so long. She didn’t think she would get to see them again.

  


“Haven’t seen you boys in awhile,” she says, because she needs to push away this slow feeling of nostalgic longing.  
  
“No, uh, we— we moved,” Dan says. They’re both sporting matching sheepish smiles.  
  
“Oh.” She remembers years back when they told her with the same sheepish smiles that they had just moved here, she remembers the nervousness, the tension. “Well, what brings you back here now then?”  
  
“A special occasion.” He’s not really talking to her anymore, his eyes having found home in the blue of the other boy’s eyes.  
  
“Well, I’m glad to see your handsome faces around here again.”  
  
“We both knew that we had to come see you here for this day, ma’am.” She feels overwhelmed when Phil directs his kind, blue eyes towards her. 

  


Suddenly, she recalls a couple of years back, the memory startlingly clear in her elderly mind, when he had come in to her café alone one day, a hidden terror in those wide eyes and desperation wobbling on his lower lip. 

  


She had immediately situated him in the booth in the back and made him a strong coffee with lots of sugar and put a little extra piece of chocolate on the saucer. He had looked exactly like one would define miserable, so she had decided that the other server could handle the tables for a bit and asked him if she may take a seat. He had looked surprised for a split second, but the tiredness had seemed to win out, and he had nodded, mumbling an almost silent, “Yes, of course, ma’am.”

  


First, she had just tried to talk to him, to pull him out of this dark place he seemed to have fallen into, those bright, bright eyes did not deserve such darkness. Then he had looked into her eyes, shyly, before stuttering, “It’s, ah, Dan, ma’am.” And she had been bewildered for all of one second before she had realized that ‘Dan’ was the boy he sometimes came in with. Of course it was, ‘Dan’ was his boy. 

  


He hadn’t told her what had happened. She hadn’t asked. He had just swirled the coffee around with his spoon as he rushed out words, one after another. She had just listened, because she felt like he maybe just needed exactly that.

  


“I never meant for it to happen. I mean, he knows that, but I just… I feel so guilty? I feel exposed, and I know he does, too. And he keeps telling me, ‘it’s not your fault, Phil, you didn’t do anything’, and we pretend that everything is okay, normal, because it _is_ — it _should be_ , but it’s not. Everything is different now. I’m not sure I like it.” He had taken a deep breath, she knows he hadn’t ever meant to just babble about his personal life to essentially a stranger, so she had put her hand on his and squeezed, and he had blurted out, “We fight so much now. It hurts.”

  


Her heart had ached for him, for them, because she had seen how happy they had been around each other, she had seen the way they gravitated towards each other, magnets to metal.

  


Now, she just smiles fondly at him. “Oh, hush, you know there’s no need for such courtesies. What can I do for you boys?”  
  
“He’ll have a matcha tea, and I’ll have a coffee, please?” His tone makes the order end in a question, and she nods dotingly, he always was too polite.  
  
“Anything else, dear?” She asks.  
  
“Can we get brunch, please?” Again a question. Out of the corner of her eye she sees brown curls bounce slightly as Dan laughs silently before abruptly wheezing and grumbling out an, “Ow, you fu— I mean,” his eyes growing wide when he looks at her and then narrowing again as he glares at Phil. 

  


Phil just flashes his teeth in an innocent grin and says, “That’s all. Thank you.”

  


She smiles and winks at them, pretends she doesn’t hear Dan’s whispered “Fuck you, Phil, that _hurt!_ ” as she’s walking away, and she wonders if they realize the familiarity with which they navigate around each other, always moving as if the other is the North Pole and they’re a compass desperate for home.

  


She hadn’t seen either of them for a few weeks after Phil’s lone visit those years back. She had almost begun to fear that her words of encouragement had made things worse, that she shouldn’t have interfered, that Phil would have been better off figuring all of it out himself. But then, as she had been bussing tables a small twenty minutes before closing time one day, Dan had walked in.

  


When she places the brunch platters in front of them they each give her a genuine smile and an earnest, “Thank you!”, and they wait until she’s gone to the booth behind them before they begin to eat. 

  


It feels almost surreal to have them in her café again, she keeps glancing back at them. Phil kicks Dan gently, and Dan says something, cheeks puffed with food, and then digs in again, eating with vigor, a starving man. Phil rolls his eyes but she sees warmth in the small smile on his lips.

  


She had noticed right away. As Dan had sat down at a table, his shoulders slumped and hair tousled, she had put the cloth back on the table deciding that she wouldn’t mind delaying closing up for a bit. She had brought him the last piece of blueberry pie they had, and watched him push it around on the plate for a few minutes, distressed and such sadness lingering in the air around him, almost palpable, and she had sat down opposite him, too. 

  


It had hurt to hear his stinging words, because she had come to care for these two boys. 

  


“I, uh…” He had paused, bit his swollen lip, then, “I don’t know what to do anymore. Everything is wrong, and every time I try to say something it comes out all wrong. We’ve tried to ignore it but they keep pushing, and it…” He had drawn in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. “He said he needed some time. What if I screwed it all up? I can’t— I need him.”

  


The single tear silently trickling down his cheek had seared itself permanently on her retinal, and she had taken his hand in hers just as she had with Phil’s. She had squeezed it and told him, “He’ll come back. I know he will. I might just be an old lady working in some café, but I know real love when I see it.”

  


She had been afraid it had been too much, because she had noticed how they would hold back. Dan had stared wide-eyed at her for a moment, she could see him vacillating, fear and something else gradually evaporating. Then he had looked down and taken a tentative bite of the pie. 

  


It had been almost an hour later before she had locked up and turned to go home.

  


She remembers the relief she had felt washing over her as she had seen the two boys walk into her café almost a month later, still fidgety and still slightly awkward but together and with smiles in their eyes again. 

  


It had been almost blinding, she thinks, smiles, and walks to their table. They’ve finished eating, empty platters reflecting the soft lighting in the café.  
  
“You boys finished?” She asks.  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Phil says, and she tuts at his civility. 

  


As she gathers their platters Dan clears his throat softly. She looks to him, and she notices his cheeks’ slight pink hue.  
  
“We, uh, we wanted to tell you something.” He hesitates, fiddles with the serviette, and Phil takes over, because that’s just how they work.  
  
“Yeah, we wanted to thank you, ma’am. For, uh…” Phil smiles, and Dan finishes, “For everything.”

  


She doesn’t like to take too much credit, but she knows she helped them, somehow, back then. She knows there was something that ended up spiralling completely out of their control, something that meant something to them, privately, she doesn’t know what the ‘something’ is or was, but she knows that it hurt them. A lot. She also knows, looking at them putting on their coats now, that whatever had happened had made them grow closer. She knows, looking at the way they laugh, that all is good now. 

  


And she feels something akin to pride bloom in her chest as she watches Dan deliberately poke Phil in the side, and Phil, without batting an eye, brushes his knuckles against Dan’s cheek, leaving a flustered Dan with a bright blush in their wake.

  


She glances at the pink heart balloons dancing from the ceiling, _Happy Valentines Day_ printed on them in a font she supposes should be romantic, but really, all she sees is happiness playing in every loop of the white letters, dripping down on the boys, or maybe it came from them in the first place.

  


She smiles.

  


She smiles as she realizes that they’re still the two shy boys she saw running into her café years ago. 

  


She smiles as they come up to the counter, telling her goodbye and she makes them promise to come visit again, _soon._

  


Smiles still as she watches them walk out of the door, walking side by side, almost touching, and minds in their own slightly different world than the one around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'm on tumblr too at [bie-lovers](https://bie-lovers.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hi. No pressure.  
> You can also [reblog](https://bie-lovers.tumblr.com/post/170880743926/as-we-grow-title-as-we-grow-relationship) this fic on tumblr if you want to. :)


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